Equifinality
by ZA Secret Santa
Summary: Written for Nel in the ZA Secret Santa Fic Exchange. Troyella.


**Equifinality**

**To: Nel**

**Love: Secret Santa**

* * *

_**Equifinality**__ is the principle that in open systems a given end state can be reached by many potential means. It emphasizes that the same end state may be achieved via many different paths._

. . . . . . . . . .

**December 13**

A young man sat perched on a stool at a table which was just feet away from the bar. One cobalt eye was fixed upon the basketball game that was playing on the television screen. The other was glancing over at the bartender who was wiping the counter top, for what seemed like the eighteenth time in the last half hour. But then again, that was what she did every night she worked – she cleaned; and as she cleaned she hummed. That night, she was humming 'Little Christmas Tree' if he wasn't mistaken. He knew of her cleaning and humming routine because he was there every night she worked. He would arrive at the exact same time, request a vodka and tonic in a tall glass – and would then make the drink last for a good hour and a half.

Gold Beach, Oregon wasn't exactly a raging part of the world; customers weren't lined up requesting liquid refreshments. It was a small coastal town. Rod n' Reef was at the far end of town, over the bridge, segregated from the very little buzz that did exist in the area. The patronage of the restaurant was predominantly tourist based, specifically people staying at the adjoined Jot's Resort. Being December, and being a coastal town, peak season was certainly not during winter.

But that was the way he liked it. After spending the first 22 odd years of his life doing what other people expected him to do, he'd cracked. And for three years since the day he'd packed up his car and left Albuquerque, he'd been a drifter – going from place to place, enjoying the peace and serenity and the nuances of different towns. Hordes of tourists weren't his ideal company. In fact his ideal company, on the whole, had become himself.

He'd arrived in Gold Beach to get some gas and expected to stay in town for a few nights. Then he'd gone into the sports bar one night and found a reason to stick around.

He rose from his place at the table, flipping his sandy brown locks out of his eyes and strode over to the bar. He stood directly in front of the bartender. She tucked a clump of her wavy dark hair behind her ear – he suspected she was growing out some bangs. She looked up, her chocolate orbs meeting his gaze.

"Thank you for the drink," he said simply.

She smiled. "You're welcome. Have a good night."

. . . . .

It was almost like a game. She'd only ever spoken a handful of different words to him. The young man would come in every night at the same time, place his standard order. She knew what he was going to order, but he told her anyway. And he knew the price of the beverage, but nevertheless she would reply with, "That'll be three fifty, thank you." Money would exchange hands, he would thank her, and she would say, "Enjoy your drink." And then when he would leave, he would thank her for the drink, and she would bid him farewell.

One night, she swore she would say something else.

_"So, what on earth is someone as young and handsome like you doing in Gold Beach for so long?"_

_"Do you use some kind of special conditioner on that hair? Because it looks so incredibly soft."_

_"Marry me."_

But every night, the standard exchange would take place, with her statutory reply of, "You're welcome, have a good night."

He would stride toward the door, take one final glance back and flash her a smile which made her feel slightly faint and render her incapable of working for the next fifteen minutes. But that didn't really matter, because the vodka and tonic the mysterious brunette ordered an hour and thirty seven minutes earlier had been the sixth drink she'd made all night, and she'd made two drinks since then. Leaving her to wipe the countertop over and over, attempting to trick her mind into believing that she was busy and so the evening would pass more rapidly.

Bringing her closer to the next time she would see him.

. . . . .

He believed in signs.

He'd spent twenty two years sticking to the status quo back in Albuquerque, New Mexico. In the space of a week, the job prospect he'd expected to pull through had fallen through. The lease of his apartment had run out and instead of being able to resign it as he'd anticipated, the owner informed him they were intending to sell. He'd received a letter from the local library informing him of a book that he'd supposedly ordered having arrived and was being held in his name – and when he'd gone in to pick it up, it was a Lonely Planet travel guide book about the United States.

A week later, he'd packed up his car and left Albuquerque. He had no particular destination in mind, and he hardly had any money. Since then, he'd spent three years driving from place to place, stopping to work for a few months at a time, picking up whatever work would allow him to sustain himself and save a little more so that he could continue upon his soul searching journey. Trying to figure out where it was that he was meant to be, what it was he was meant to be doing.

As opposed to what his father expected him to do.

Signs appeared in all forms. A few hours into his road trip, he'd been forced to make a decision whether to head east or west. The road sign pointing east was covered in bird shit. So west it had been.

Signs also came in hunches, gut feelings. The moment he'd walked into the Rod n' Reef sports bar and laid eyes upon the bar maid, was the moment he'd decided that his stay in Gold Beach was going to be longer than a few days. In fact it had become a few months.

And before he knew it, December had arrived – and finally, he'd been given a sign that he _had_ to talk to her. When he'd walked toward the door and looked back and smiled at her – she'd smiled back.

There it was, written in the stars. He had to talk to her. As soon as possible.

. . . . . . . . . .

**December 14**

She hated December.

As a child, she had waved her father off to work one December morning. She'd never anticipated that he wouldn't come back, that a drunk driver would take away her father forever.

When she was sixteen and halfway through her junior year of high school, she and her mother were just a few weeks from leaving for their annual mother-daughter winter holiday; after which they would be moving to New Mexico. The holiday never happened. She never did make it to New Mexico. Instead she was sent to live with her aunt and uncle in New Jersey, where she lived for the remainder of her high school days.

It had been December of senior year when her aunt and uncle had practically forced her onto a plane to fly to Massachusetts to go talk with the Harvard admissions staff. There were students across the country who would literally give an arm just to be accepted to Harvard. They'd contacted her – just like they had been doing so regularly ever since she'd led Sun High to victory in the scholastic decathlon contest.

If it had been February or April or October, she'd be able to just close her eyes and pretend that the month didn't exist. However December was impossible to ignore. It was impossible to remain complacent to the gaudy tinsel and decorations which adorned the streets, the displays that filled the windows of retailers, the carols which played so merrily.

But she could try. She would send an obligatory Christmas card to her uncle and aunt – letting them know that she was okay and alive and well – and no, she would not be returning to civilization to continue with the professional path they expected of her. And other than that, she avoided the town as often as she could.

She finished her day job of cleaning at Jot's Resort for a few hours, grabbed a sandwich she'd already made, as well as an apple and a bottle of water, picked up the novel she was reading and headed for her little ocean side park where she would spend a portion of her afternoon. She'd been sitting on her bench for no more than five minutes when she sensed the arrival of a familiar presence, a welcome presence. It appeared that they were both creatures of habit. She would come to this park every day, and so would he. He would sit on a bench maybe twenty feet away, sometimes reading a newspaper, sometimes listening to his iPod.

Habits can be broken.

She looked up to see him hovering over her, smiling somewhat shyly. He didn't ask for an invitation to sit on the bench beside her, he just sat.

"So. I know that you are staying at Jot's Resort as a long term resident. I know that between about 10am and 2pm, Wednesday to Sunday, you work for the cleaning department and clear rooms between check out and check in time. I know that you work the evening shift in the bar at Rod n' Reef, also from Wednesday to Sunday. I know that, weather permitting, between these two jobs you come here to this very bench and you eat your sandwich and read a book. Your name tag informs me that you are Gabriella. My eyes tell me that you're one of the most gorgeous women I've never seen."

Gabriella swallowed, smiling shyly. Of all the ways she'd envisaged they'd first break the ritual verbal exchange between them, it would never have been how it had just taken place. Nevertheless, she found her voice.

"I know that you too are staying at Jot's in the long term. I know that when I come to your room for housekeeping, you are never there, and that your room is always immaculately clean leaving me with little to do other than change your bed linen every few days. I know that you also come to this park, where you drink a smoothie and typically read the newspaper – the sports section first. I know that every night from Wednesday to Sunday you come to the bar at Rod n' Reef where you take an hour and a half to consume a vodka and tonic in a tall glass. You don't wear a name tag, and so I don't know your name. And… what my eyes tell me is irrelevant because appearances can be deceptive."

"Touché," he responded, before extending his hand in introduction. "Troy."

She took his hand somewhat hesitantly. "Gabriella."

"Nice to meet you… properly."

"Why did you come talk to me?" Gabriella asked, her tone hesitant yet curious.

"Well, Gabriella, it's been over three months now of knowing each other without really knowing each other. I decided last night when you smiled at me that it was about time that we talked to each other. I wasn't sure when, or what I'd say. And then today when I arrived at the park, I noticed that some creature has splattered a white substance which I can assume to be shit all over my bench. And so… here I am. Talking to you. But…" Troy paused and gestured further down in the park. There is another bench further down that way, so if you'd prefer I can keep going and leave you in peace."

"That won't be necessary," she said, and giggled. Troy smiled; her giggle was quite possibly the most magical sound he'd ever heard. "Although I should warn you, I'll be leaving soon. I have a staff meeting this afternoon."

"That's fine," he responded assuringly. "But in the mean time, you have to tell me what is on that sandwich because it looks totally awesome."

Suddenly, December didn't seem so bad.

. . . . .

Gabriella never hated going to work, but it wasn't as though she jumped with joy at the prospect of pouring a handful of drinks and cleaning monotonously. However after two days off, she found that she was experiencing a sudden yearn to mix a certain young man a vodka tonic. When she arrived at the bar, she kept checking her reflection in a small mirror on the back wall of the bar, ensuring that her hair hadn't gone frizzy and that her lip gloss was still applied evenly. Such vanity was not normally a part of her routine, but for some reason, she cared. Particularly as she glanced at the clock on the wall, knowing that his arrival was imminent. Surely enough, right on time, he strolled into the bar at the same time as every other night. Gabriella's face immediately broke into a warm smile, a smile which was returned upon making eye contact from across the room. She ducked her head slightly and immediately plucked a tall glass from the pile, scooped the requisite amount of glass inside, measured out the shot of vodka and then added the tonic. A wedge of lime and completed the ensemble. By the time he reached the counter, the drink was being placed down in front of him.

"You shouldn't have done that."

"Why?" she asked, concerned that she'd offended him.

"I was going to order a beer," he said, deadpan.

"Really?" she said, reaching out to pick up the glass.

Troy reached out and clasped his hand over hers. "Not really. I just thought I'd try to be funny. But seriously, if you make the drink before I order it, we bypass our usual conversation."

"But isn't this refreshing?" Gabriella enquired coyly. "We're having a different conversation altogether. Besides, you already have the change in your hand so I hardly need to tell you how much it costs."

"Touché again."

For the first time since the end of the peak summer season, Gabriella had a customer approach the counter and wait to be served. She couldn't help but feel a little annoyed that the one other patron in the bar couldn't have come up five minutes earlier before Troy's arrival. Glancing over, Troy wordlessly handed Gabriella the change in his hand and flashed a smile as he headed toward his usual table. She quickly poured the beer that the other patron requested, before picking up her cloth and ambling out into the seating area. She headed straight over to Troy's table, absentmindedly wiping at the table.

"So tell me, when you're not drinking vodka tonics here at the bar or drinking smoothies at the park, what are you doing?" she enquired.

"I work as a personal trainer at the Gold Beach Fitness Center – it's down on Ellensburg, near 8th? I work from 6am to 1pm, Tuesday to Saturday. Sometimes after I leave here, I head to Sea Star to have a few drinks with some of my work colleagues, but that's not very often. I wake up early by habit on Sunday and Monday morning and go for a run along the beach and into town, grab breakfast, then come back for a swim in the pool here."

_No wonder he looks how he does… imagine how buff he is beneath that shirt…_

"I think I've used the pool like, three times in the six months I've been living here," Gabriella remarked.

"Oh I use it all the time. There's also the whirlpool which is really great if I've had a few really intense days at the fitness center, just to work all the kinks out. I just lie back and relax and allow the water to sorta… wash over me."

"Maybe I'll have to come down some time. The indoor pool is heated, right?"

"Of course."

It was small talk – but it was nevertheless talk.

. . . . . . . . . .

**December 17**

Gabriella had a slight mishap as she was finishing her day job of cleaning the following afternoon. She tripped over a bucket of soapy water – so stayed back to clean up her spill. When she arrived at the park, Troy had already arrived with his newspaper and smoothie. He was sitting over on his bench. She hesitated for about 0.5 seconds, before walking over to him.

"This seat taken?" she asked, gesturing to the other half of the bench.

Troy grinned, holding his arm out welcomingly. "Be my guest. I thought maybe you weren't coming."

"Just running late is all."

She neatly took out her sandwich from its plastic packaging, flipped open her novel and began to read. Troy watched her for a moment, before smiling and turning back to his newspaper. The two sat in companionable silence, a silence that would typically be reserved for a duo with a comprehensive history.

. . . . . . . . . .

Troy blinked upon entering the bar that night. Gabriella was over by the wall, standing on a ladder. She was clutching onto some tinsel, reaching out to tack it up against the wall. What first struck him was the way that her black skirt had ridden slightly up her thigh. The second thought to enter his brain was that women should really not stand on ladders whilst wearing skirts, and that his libido – which had been craving sex for months – really wanted to go stand beneath her. The third thought that struck him was that she was leaning over way too far for his liking, at which point thoughts one and two dissolved and he rushed over.

"Be careful!" he admonished. "That looks really dangerous."

She glanced down at him for a moment. "The manager said he wanted more tinsel up, and he wanted it going along the ceiling. I need to put it onto that hook there, but I can't move the ladder any closer because of the vending machine in the corner."

"Get down, let me do it," Troy insisted. "My arms are longer than yours."

Gabriella sensed the resolution in his tone and realistically she knew that he was right. And so the damsel climbed down the ladder, her knight in shining armor holding out his hand to assist her down the last few steps. He then made his own way up the ladder, able to affix the tinsel to its hook with no trouble at all. He made his way back down and then stood back to admire his handiwork.

"Beautiful, definitely livens up the place a little more," he remarked.

Gabriella hadn't responded – and it took him a moment to look at her, realise she was a little wide eyed and glancing up toward the ceiling. He then looked up – and saw the mistletoe hanging above where they were standing.

"That's mistletoe," Gabriella said, her throat suddenly feeling a bit dry. She went to turn away. "I always thought that it was a silly…"

A strong hand clasped onto her arm, pulling her back toward him. Troy leaned down, and pressed a sweet, chaste kiss to her lips.

"It might be a silly tradition, but it's still tradition," he murmured. "And you can't break tradition."

And there it was, one single moment in time where only the two of them existed. She could feel him on her lips, a tingling sensation effectively running chills down her spine. His blue orbs penetrated into her, not only gazing into her chocolate eyes but looking further, deeper.

He cleared his throat. "So… how about a vodka tonic?"

. . . . . . . . . .

**December 18**

Troy was waiting patiently in the lobby of the resort, and immediately jumped up as Gabriella appeared after leaving her room.

"Hello," he greeted her with a bright smile.

"Hi," she replied shyly.

He gestured to the sandwich in her hand. "Now, I know that your sandwich is probably really exciting, and that the park is really pretty and all… but I was wondering if by any chance you'd like to accompany me to lunch? I was thinking about heading down Double D's Café?"

"Are you driving?" she asked.

"Of course."

Gabriella grinned, instantly tossing her sandwich into a trash can. "Okay then."

. . . . .

A half hour later, they were seated in a corner booth at Double D's; with a slice of quiche and a side salad in front of Gabriella and a liberal serving of lasagne in front of Troy. She also had a skinny caramel latte, whereas he had a freshly squeezed orange juice.

"So… did you ever expect that you'd be working in a bar?" Troy asked.

The few conversations they'd had so far had been mainly small talk, each discussing their jobs and gossipping about town folk they both knew. Very little had been broached about their pasts, their motivations, their dreams – a conscious avoidance thus far from both of them.

Gabriella snorted slightly. "Absolutely not. I'm a Harvard graduate, I'm toward the end of my post graduate studies in medicine."

"What on earth is a Harvard Med student doing in Gold Beach, Oregon?" Troy asked incredulously.

Gabriella hesitated. It was seemingly such a simple question, and yet it was also loaded and complex. "One day I'd had enough," she finally said, and then elaborated. "It's not that I don't want to be a doctor – I just don't know if I want to be a doctor. I enjoy science, I was very good at it throughout my high school studies, and it all just led me in that direction. And it's not that I hate what I do. A lot of the time I find it interesting. But I just… I was never totally sure that _I'd_ been the one to choose my path in life. It was chosen for me. And I just decided that I wanted to get away from it for a while and just… be me. See what's out there. I felt almost claustrophobic, I just started driving and I couldn't stop. I drove south until I hit Virginia, and then I drove west. I took my time, checking out lots of towns as I went through, never staying anywhere long than a night or two. In bad weather I'd stay at youth hostels or motels, or if the weather was nice I have a tent with me so I'd pull into a camping ground. I kept driving west til I hit the coast, and then I made my way north via the coastal route – and then I broke down. My car was towed by the AAA to the nearest mechanic – which was here, in Gold Beach. And I just haven't left yet."

"How long have you been here?"

"Almost six months. I never planned to stay that long, but I sorta did some quick budgeting. My rough plan was to get to Canada, I'd wanted to get a job in the snow fields over the peak winter season. Because it was the peak summer season here, I heard about a job going at Rod n' Reef, was interviewed when I went in to apply and started work that night. At first I was paying my way to stay at Jot's, and then I was talking to Kerrie, the manager one day. She mentioned that she needed someone extra for room cleaning, and basically we struck up a deal where I worked in lieu of paying for my room. Summer ended and somehow I retained both jobs and…. I just never left. I think after spending so many months sleeping in a different bed each night, it was appealing being able to stay somewhere. Even then, I don't think I ever expected I'd stay this long. But… for some reason I have."

"It's weird how similar our stories are," Troy remarked.

"Really? Because all I know is that you arrived in town about three months ago and you are working in the fitness center. Where are you from originally?"

"Albuquerque, in New Mexico."

"Oh really? I almost lived there once. My mom used to get transferred a lot and she umm….. we were meant to move there in my junior year, like I was enrolled at East High and she'd bought a house there and everything. But… then I wound up going to live in New Jersey," Gabriella told him, skimming over the details of the tale.

"How old are you, may I ask?" Troy asked.

"I'm twenty five."

"We would have been in the same grade," Troy revealed. "Did your mom end up getting transferred to New Jersey?"

Gabriella cleared her throat. "Um, no, I went to live with my aunt and uncle. My mom…. There was… she had this aneurysm… it was all very sudden."

"Oh… I'm…"

"Don't say it," Gabriella interrupted. "It's fine, it was a long time ago and I'm as okay as I'll ever be about it now." She smiled at him, attempting to placate that look of sympathy that she always got when she revealed her past. "So you're from Albuquerque. How did you wind up here?"

"My whole life I was just expected to go to the University of Albuquerque. It was my dad's Alma Mater. He blew his knee out two years into his time playing for the Redhawks…" Troy noticed the slightly confused expression upon Gabriella's face. "Basketball," he explained, receiving a small grateful nod. "I remember in middle school when I told him I wanted to try out for our basketball team… the expression on his face was just one of pure joy. How fortunate that his only son was available to live out his unfulfilled dream. It seemed like everything was going to plan, coz it turned out I was pretty good, better than good. I made starting varsity in my sophomore year of high school, I was voted team captain in junior year and then we took out the state championships back to back in my junior and senior year. And then I got the coveted U of A scholarship… everything fell into place the way my dad imagined it turning out. I went to the U of A, where we did pretty well in the college basketball competition. Dad was pushing me to put my name up for the NBA draft but I just… something in my gut told me that I wasn't meant to do it. So I didn't. He wasn't impressed with me at all, but I just felt liberated because for the first time ever, I did something for me. I'd been working at the local gym for a while, I was in line to get this promotion which fell through. Then the apartment I was leasing, the lease ended and I was gonna resign but the owner decided to sell up. And then I just… kinda like you, I guess. I packed up and left. The most scary thing I've ever done, and yet…"

"The right thing, the best thing," Gabriella supplied, nodding in complete understanding.

Troy nodded. "I just…. I felt like there could be something more for me out there. But I had no idea what it could be, or where to begin looking for it. And rather than sitting around thinking that my life wasn't turning out how I wanted it to… I was like, I should go out there and try to find it. I've been travelling around the United States for about three years now, I had practically no money so I drive for a bit and then stop somewhere and find work for a few months. By the time I'm feeling bored, I've usually saved enough money to keep me going for a bit longer. I was passing through Gold Beach, really intending to just stop for gas and to look around for a few days. But then… I stayed."

"Why?"

Troy paused.

_Because of you._

"Just… something pulled me to stay, I guess," he responded elusively.

"How long do you think you'll stay?"

He shrugged, honestly not having an answer. "I believe in signs, I guess. When there's a sign I should leave… I'll leave."

"Fair enough."

"And you?"

"I really have no idea. For a while I was perfectly content just living how I have been here. It's peaceful, serene even. I guess… lately I've started to realise that I miss being around people. When I'm doing the cleaning work, I'm on my own. In the bar I only work with someone occasionally, during change over period. I guess I didn't realise that I was a bit lonely."

"By any chance… have I had anything to do with that revelation?" Troy asked, with an aura of cockiness to mask the vulnerability of the question.

Gabriella blushed a little and didn't respond – which was equitable to an admission.

Troy slid a little closer to her on the booth. "There's no mistletoe here now but… I was wondering if it would be highly inappropriate if I kissed you?"

Gabriella responded not with words, but with actions. She leaned over to press her lips to his softly. She was about to break apart when his lips pressed a little harder to hers lingering. Lips parted, with the ever so slightest meeting of tongues before pulling apart.

. . . . . . . . . .

**December 19**

Once again Troy had waited for Gabriella in the foyer of the resort, this time, bringing with him a picnic basket.

"So I know it's freezing, but we go sit at the park anyway in our jackets and beanies and scarves. So why not picnic it? The sun is out today and so if we find a good spot, it should be nice."

They randomly chatted along the brief walk to the park. Troy relayed a story that one of his clients that morning had told him, involving the family dog and some accidental consumption of tinsel. Gabriella was walking to Troy's right; he had the picnic basket in his left hand. Slowly, he nudged his right hand across, at first grazing slightly with hers. He glanced sideways at her at the exact precise moment that she had glanced sideways at him. They quickly looked away, but then Gabriella took the initiative and took his hand in hers, lacing their fingers together. The pair walked hand in hand for the rest of the walk to the park.

A nice sunny spot was located, a picnic blanket laid out and then Troy began to pull the various goodies out of the bag. He and Gabriella had engaged in brief discussion about some of her favorite foods after they had ordered at the café the previous day, but nevertheless he hadn't been completely sure about anything. So he'd just brought an assortment of all sorts of things; including crackers, different cheeses, different meats, bread rolls and fruit.

"Um, how many meals is this picnic going for?" Gabriella asked teasingly.

Troy grinned sheepishly. "I went a bit nuts at the grocery store. It's fine though, I have a big appetite and besides, I'll eat leftovers for dinner and possibly breakfast tomorrow."

Gabriella giggled. "Fair enough then."

"So you're staying here for Christmas? Not going back to Jersey to spend time with your uncle and aunt?"

She shook her head. "Staying here. The restaurant is closed on Christmas Day though so… not sure what I'll be doing." She hesitated, before asking tentatively. "Are you heading back to Albuquerque?"

Troy shook his head. "No. I thought about it. But I have this fear that… if I go back, I won't leave. Dad will magically find some job for me and try to make everything easy but… I don't want it to be easy."

"I see. And the fitness center is closed, I presume?"

He nodded. "It's closed the 24th, 25th and 26th."

"Okay then. So… I'm here… and… you're here…" she trailed off, not quite knowing how to complete the sentence.

"I don't know about you, but I would love to have someone to spend the day with," Troy declared, with a sudden confidence.

Gabriella nodded, ducking her head slightly. "I'd love that too."

. . . . . . . . . .

**December 25**

**3:48pm**

Gabriella awoke, stretching out in the Queen bed – it wasn't _her_ bed, she still thought of the room as belonging to the resort. The first thing that struck her was that she wasn't wearing any clothes. The fact was that Gabriella never slept without wearing clothes. It surprised her that the crisp cotton of the sheet felt nice against her skin. The second thing that struck her was that evidently, she wasn't alone. As she stretched, her bare, smooth leg rubbed up against something hairy. Her eyes opened, and she saw Troy, gazing at her with a bemused expression upon his face.

"Hi," she murmured.

"Hi," he responded.

The pieces came together and it all washed back over her. It didn't frighten her, not in the slightest. How could anything that felt as _good_ as he had felt be frightening? By instinct, she reached out to run her hand down his chiselled abs lovingly.

"When I said we should have Christmas lunch, that wasn't what I had in mind," she murmured.

"Maybe not but… that was the best damn lunch I've ever had," Troy informed her coyly. His hand cupped her chin, his thumb caressing her cheek.

"Uh huh," Gabriella agreed resolutely.

"I knew there was a reason why I stayed in Gold Beach," Troy murmured. "Call me crazy if you like but… that was… this is…. It's more than…"

Gabriella nodded. "This is probably the last thing that a woman should be telling someone who she just slept with for the first time but…. I kinda think I'm falling for you… hard."

"That's good because, I don't 'kinda think'… I _know _that I'm falling for you."

. . . . . . . . . .

**December 27th **

For a change in pace, the bar was actually a little busy – with a small group of Canadian travellers, on their way driving to California for New Years. They were all drinking consistently, and Gabriella was actually a little busy – not too busy that she couldn't handle it, but busy enough that Troy was left by his lonesome. He'd offered to help her but she'd refused –she'd get in trouble if management found out. When he finished his vodka tonic and left without saying a word, she went over to wipe over his table and found a cocktail napkin with a note he'd left behind.

_Come to my room when you finish. 2-12, in case you forgot. I'll be expecting you. – Troy xxx_

She smiled, tucked the note into her apron and proceeded to have the slowest final hour of work in the history of her time working at Rod n' Reef. Luckily the group of Canadians continued on their way heading to a different bar, leaving Gabriella to complete her cleaning in record time. After finishing work, she obediently followed his instruction, with the plan of telling him straight away that she'd be back shortly after going to her room to shower briefly and get changed.

Of all people, Gabriella should have realised that plans rarely go as they are expected to.

She'd knocked on the door and within five seconds, it was thrown open. Troy immediately captured Gabriella's waist and pulled her toward him, his lips connecting with hers for a fiery, probing kiss. Gabriella pulled away, gasping.

"I was just going to…"

"No," Troy growled.

"But I…" Gabriella began to say, gesturing toward her work uniform.

"You look absolutely perfect for what I have planned," Troy informed her, his lips latching onto her neck, suckling lightly.

"And what exactly…" Gabriella gasped. "… do you have planned?"

"I'm just planning to undress you and get you rather sweaty. So it doesn't matter what you wear or whether you've showered for that."

Gabriella relented, and finally stepped through the threshold into Troy's apartment and kicked the door shut with her foot. Her lips were otherwise occupied.

. . . . . . . . . .

**December 31st**

**11:55pm**

Troy and Gabriella were sitting on a rug at the beach, with another rug wrapped tightly around them. A few inebriated locals had already began to count down to mid night. The official fireworks were being set off not too far away, the couple were in perfect position to watch them. It was a beautiful night, with a clear sky allowing the presence of the stars to shine to their full capacity. Gabriella was curled up beside Troy, snuggled into his side with one arm across his back and the other clinging to his waist. His arm was around her, rubbing lazy circles on the small of her back. He'd brought along a thermos of hot cocoa, and was holding onto a mug of the warm beverage. He took a sip from it, then held it up to her lips to allow her to take a mouthful.

"You know how I told you that I sorta believe in signs?" Troy asked softly.

Gabriella nodded. "Mm hmm?"

"I found out today that my mom is pregnant."

"What?!" Gabriella exclaimed. "Are you serious?"

"Very."

"May I ask how old she is?"

"She's forty eight."

"And… is she going to have it?"

"Yup."

"Wow."

"I... I want to go back to Albuquerque," Troy said, his voice softening to an almost inaudible point.

He felt the tension in Gabriella's embrace, and then she pulled back away from him. "That's… of course. You should go. Absolutely. It's your mom, and…"

"Not right away," Troy said. "Maybe toward her last trimester."

"Umm…. Okay…" Gabriella said slowly.

What could she say? _Don't go? We've known each other for a few weeks but I can't bear the thought of you ever not being with me?_

"I was thinking that maybe I'd take my time driving back… stop a few more places along the way," Troy told her, biting his lip as he said the words.

"How… when?"

"If I decide to go ahead with it, I need to give two weeks notice to the fitness center."

Gabriella exhaled, her eyes widening. "Right… well then. That's… I totally understand. I mean, this is something you have to do, and…"

"Come with me," Troy murmured.

In the background, people began with the New Years Eve countdown. "10, 9, 8, 7…"

Gabriella blinked, not responding, not certain if she had heard him correctly. "Uh… pardon?"

"4, 3, 2…"

"You heard me, come with me," he said once more, insistently.

"Happy New Year!!!"

. . . . . . . . . .

**January 1st**

**12:00am**

"What?" Gabriella spluttered. "You are crazy."

"I know I am, and that is exactly what makes this right. Because for the first time in my life, I know unequivocally what I want… I want you. I want to be with you every moment of every day. I know that we only really met each other two and a half weeks ago but… these two and a half weeks… they've been the best two and a half weeks of my life. We're both doing the same thing here – drifting, wandering, trying to work out where we fit in. It's now officially a brand new year, it's the start of something new, something fresh. Seriously, what's stopping you? I mean… we try it, lets say it fails miserably. So you've had another adventure. Nothing ventured, nothing gained is what I say. Logistics we can work out, we can leave one of our cars here and just agree that if something goes wrong then we'll split the cost of flying the other person back to get their car, or shipping it, or maybe we could sell it. Or…"

Gabriella held her finger up to Troy's lips, silencing him. She then leaned forward, initiating a sweet, soft kiss.

"Okay," she whispered.

Troy's eyes boggled. "Okay?!" he repeated, setting down the mug of cocoa.

"Okay!" Gabriella confirmed, nodding enthusiastically. "I'll come with you."

"Really?!" Troy demanded. "Really, really, really?!"

"Yes! Really!"

He let out a slight yelp, and practically crash tackled her, knocking her backwards but placing his hand beneath the back of her head, before setting her down to rest back against the soft sand. Their lips united, tongues duelling, hands roaming. The mug of cocoa had been knocked over and the thermos rolled slightly away, but none of it mattered. They had no awareness of anything outside of their bubble; oblivious to the people who were hugging and wishing one another a happy new year, to the drunks singing Auld Lang Syne. The magical fireworks they'd sat waiting for were no longer what mattered.

What mattered was that they'd found each other. The path of life had come so close to bringing them together once before, but fate had intervened and prevented such a meeting from occurring. The journey had been long and winding, with highs and lows, ups and downs. But it didn't matter, because they had come together regardless. It was destiny, kismet, fate; that regardless of the interventions of life – the same destination would be reached.

Troy and Gabriella.

Together.


End file.
